


On Knife's Edge

by Llama1412



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Frottage, Knifeplay, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Shaving, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: After they assist in the Battle of Kaer Morhen, Iorveth and Roche end up traveling back to Temeria together. An injury to Roche’s arm leaves him unable to shave himself, so it’s only polite for Iorveth to offer his assistance… right?
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 21
Kudos: 84





	On Knife's Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lutes_and_dandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutes_and_dandelions/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Lutes! I hope you enjoy!

A mere year ago, Iorveth never would’ve expected to find himself here.  _ Here _ being in an inn in a nameless town west of the Blue Mountains, sharing a bed with none other than Vernon Roche.

Well, not  _ sharing  _ a bed. Though, Iorveth could admit to himself, he’d certainly thought about it. 

The thing was, they hadn’t had to travel together. They were both bound for Temeria, true, but Roche’s arm had been injured in the fight against the Wild Hunt. He  _ could _ have stayed in Kaer Morhen long enough to heal – Geralt had clearly  _ offered _ him shelter – but Roche had insisted that he needed to return to his men. When he’d found out Iorveth was headed to Temeria, he had suggested that they travel together.

Even though the journey to Temeria was perilous. Even though his sword arm was out of commission. Even though the only protection he’d have from monsters or bandits or cannibals – there were truly a horrifying number of cannibals in the former-Temerian swamps of Velen – was Iorveth. Iorveth who, until the fall of Temeria and the invasion of Nilfgaard, had actively been trying to kill Roche.

And now, Roche lay in the bed beside Iorveth,  _ sleeping.  _ As in, completely vulnerable in addition to being injured.

Part of Iorveth felt he should be offended, that Roche considered him so little of a threat that the man was comfortable turning his back on Iorveth. But Iorveth  _ knew _ that Roche respected him. Not least because he’d defeated Roche once, in the forests outside Flotsam. Only a year ago, and yet it felt like an eternity.

But even before they’d met, there had been a certain level of respect between the two of them, as commanders on opposing sides. Roche knew  _ exactly _ how much of a threat Iorveth was.

He was trusting Iorveth anyway.

Roche grunted and tried to roll onto his injured arm, waking up with a gasp. Iorveth hurriedly jerked his gaze away from the human and started to get up, stretching with a yawn.

“Ugh,” Roche scrubbed his face, “fuck, I forgot to shave before this stupid arm,” he gestured with it and then winced, “and now it’s a fucking mess.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Iorveth had actually spent far too much time wondering what Roche’s stubble might feel like against his thighs, but Roche’s beard was growing in patchy and grey and uneven, and fast enough that skipping even a day of shaving meant Roche’s chin had enough growth to stick out in little wisps. It made him look unwashed, unkempt, and a little deranged, honestly.

“I could do it for you, if you wanted,” Iorveth said casually, as if he weren’t offering to hold a knife against the throat of someone who had, until very recently, been his enemy.

Roche turned to look at him with wide eyes, breath coming surprisingly fast. “Yeah,” Roche murmured, “okay.”

Iorveth shivered lightly, curling his fist to stabilize it. It wouldn’t do to reward Roche’s trust with an unsteady hand. He swallowed, “I’ve never – you’ll have to show me how.”

Roche licked his lips and nodded. “Lemme grab my shaving kit. It’s a bit of a process, honestly. There’s a reason I’m lazy with it.”

Iorveth snorted, “the beard is definitely  _ interesting,  _ but you also look like a vagrant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roche rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, you’re signing up for a whole process.”

“So let’s get started,” Iorveth said. “What do we need?”

“Gonna haveta heat up a wet towel. Gotta leave it on my face for a couple of minutes to soften the hair. Makes it easier to shave,” Roche explained, heading for the single table in their inn room and beginning to unpack his kit. Iorveth raised an eyebrow at how many items seemed to be necessary for a shave. Maybe he  _ was  _ getting in over his head.

Still, Roche had agreed to it and Iorveth wouldn’t be the one to back down. So he rose to fetch a towel to warm over the fire.

“And then?”

“Gotta work up a lather with the shaving soap,” Roche indicated one of the tins he’d pulled out. “Spread it across everywhere that needs shaved. Then it’s the actual shave. I assume you’re comfortable with a blade?”

Iorveth scoffed, “I’ve been wielding blades longer than you’ve been alive, dh’oine.”

“Good. Then you should pick up how to use it pretty quickly.”

“And the rest of those bottles?” 

Roche held up one, “this goes on before the towel, the warmth helps it soak in. Uh, this one,” he gestured to a blue bottle, “goes on afterwards.”

Iorveth brought the heated towel over to Roche. “You weren’t kidding. It  _ is _ a whole process.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Iorveth tilted his head, holding the towel out. “Why? I’m the one who offered.”

Roche held his gaze for a long moment, then swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Uh, I can take that. Use the brush to work up a lather with the soap.”

Iorveth did as instructed, watching Roche fold the towel over his face while keeping his nose free. Iorveth bit his lip, eyes fixed on Roche. There he went again, thoughtlessly leaving himself vulnerable in front of Iorveth. Gods, but that made Iorveth feel warm and buoyant and his own breathing was coming faster now.

Roche was leaning back in the chair, his head tilted back to balance the towel. Iorveth swallowed and traced his eye down the line of Roche’s neck, his hands moving automatically to prepare the lather.

He wasn't sure how long that lasted, but eventually, Roche moved, pulling the towel off his face with a regretful sigh. 

“All right,” Roche said, head still tilted back. “Spread the lather now.”

Iorveth nodded, taking the brush and rubbing it in circles across Roche’s jaw and neck.

“That’s enough,” Roche said softly, his voice deep. 

Iorveth licked his lips. They were really doing this, weren’t they? Roche was really going to  _ let him _ hold a knife at Roche’s throat. He swallowed again, stepping back to set the brush aside. Then he turned to pick up the knife, stropping it against the leather. 

When Iorveth turned back to Roche, the human was watching his hands, mouth partially open. Iorveth licked his lips and clenched his core, holding back a shiver at the unexpected spike of pleasure that sent rushing through him. He hadn’t realized how aroused he was, but fuck, the sheer trust that Roche was showing in him… how could he  _ not _ respond?

“Ready?” Iorveth asked, moving closer to Roche with the razor held aloft. Roche met his eye and nodded the slightest amount. He was close enough to see the way that Roche’s pupils were dark and wide. Was Roche–?

Iorveth bit his bottom lip, stepping the slightest bit closer. Roche’s thighs were slightly parted, and before Iorveth had time to assess the idea, he was raising a knee to plant it between those thighs. Roche’s legs opened further, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Iorveth used his knee for balance as he bent close and set the blade against Roche’s cheek. 

Roche inhaled raggedly, still staring at Iorveth, even though Iorveth’s gaze was now fixed on the blade that he slowly let gravity and its own weight drag down. He could feel Roche watching him, feel the intent focus the human weighed him with. 

And then, Iorveth pulled the razor away to wipe off the soap, and when he brought his eye back up, Roche had closed his own. The man was still breathing quickly, but he looked otherwise relaxed, the line of his shoulders sloping down and slumping forward.

Iorveth took a shaky breath and brought the blade to Roche’s neck. Nothing in Roche’s posture changed – he didn’t tense even the slightest and Iorveth suddenly felt the urge to cry at being granted such an overwhelming trust. 

He swallowed roughly and shaved the underside of Roche’s chin, idly wondering what the corner of Roche’s jaw would look like with his mark on it. His mouth was dry and he was very,  _ very _ aware of how close they were, how he could feel the heat of Roche’s thighs around his knee, how Roche was trusting him so casually and so openly and he had to pull his hand away to keep it from shaking. There was only Roche’s lip left to do anyway, and Iorveth bit his lip, reaching out with his free hand to touch the corner of Roche’s mouth.

Roche’s breath puffed over his wrist as Roche curled his lips together to pull the skin on his top lip taut. Iorveth set the knife against him, scraping down ever so delicately.

Finally, Iorveth was done, and when he pulled the blade away from Roche’s skin, the human let out a soft sound. 

Iorveth couldn’t take his eye away from the red stain of Roche’s lips, even as he used the now cool towel to clean the soap off of Roche’s face. His hands reached sightlessly for the bottle Roche had said should be used after the shave, nearly fumbling and dropping it. Still eventually he had it open and poured a small amount of lotion into his hand – all without ever removing his eye from Roche’s half-lidded gaze.

He rubbed his hands together and then cupped Roche’s face, rubbing it in with his thumbs. Roche shuddered, his breath shaking audibly, and Iorveth licked his lips.

“Vernon,” he murmured, softly so as not to break the bubble they existed in. 

Roche parted his lips, his tongue flicking out to wet the bottom one, and Iorveth’s gaze darted down to watch. 

“Kiss me,” Roche rumbled and Iorveth was moving before he was really aware of it. Instead, he was entirely focused on Roche’s warm and soft lips, on the way sucking the lower one into his mouth made Roche let out a hungry noise, on the way Roche’s hot tongue flicked over his own lips, on the way he could feel the movement of Roche’s jaw against his palms. 

“Vernon,” Iorveth said again, against Roche’s mouth, and Roche’s hands rose to clutch at his hips, trying to pull him closer. 

Iorveth shuffled forward the slightest bit, pressing his raised knee against the hardness in Roche’s trousers. Roche shuddered, whining into his mouth, grip on his hips turning bruising.

Iorveth slid his hand up into Roche’s hair, biting down on Roche’s lower lip. Roche’s hips jerked against his knee, and once they’d started moving, Roche couldn’t seem to stop them, grinding against him. Roche’s cock was a hot brand against his knee and fuck, Iorveth wanted to see it, wanted to feel it against him, inside him. He sucked hard on Roche’s tongue and pushed his knee the slightest bit into Roche. 

Roche moaned, hands slipping under the hem of Iorveth’s tunic and splaying hot and solid against his back. Iorveth shuddered, knotting his fingers in the longer hair atop Roche’s head, tugging lightly, just to enjoy the way Roche arched against him. 

“Fuck,” Iorveth rasped, panting for breath and staring down at Roche’s flushed face.

Roche’s eyes slowly fluttered open, looking up at him with a hot, piercing gaze and Iorveth had never seen a more beautiful sight. 

He moved his leg, and Roche let out a bereft sound, but Iorveth quickly rearranged himself to straddle Roche’s lap, the hard cock in his hose pressing against Roche’s. 

“Oh gods,” Roche gasped, hands grasping restlessly at his skin, as though the human couldn’t decide where to touch. 

Iorveth wrapped his arm around Roche’s shoulders, rocking forward against Roche’s cock. With his free hand, he pulled himself away just far enough to grab the razor again. Then he pressed the flat of the blade against the back of Roche’s neck, enough so that he could feel the bite without breaking skin. 

“Okay?”

Roche shuddered, mouth dropping open with a ragged gasp, “yes.”

Iorveth had to taste Roche’s answer, had to feel that gasp pull from his own lungs, and he fisted his hand in Roche’s hair, tugging Roche’s head back and fucking his tongue into Roche’s mouth. Roche’s hips bucked up against him and he ground down roughly. His hose were slowly getting soaked, with his cock drooling slick and his cunt leaking against the fabric, and one of Roche’s hands slid down to his ass, pulling him closer, fingers dipping low between his legs and just barely brushing across his cunt.

Iorveth squirmed, moaning into Roche’s mouth and Roche pulled back with a gasp, even as his fingers ventured further around and brushed gently across the lips of his cunt.

“Fuck, do you have–?” Roche asked with wide eyes and Iorveth remembered that humans were different, that they only had one set of genitalia per sex. So strange.

Roche’s fingers explored, confirming his question and Iorveth moaned, clutching at Roche’s hair. Then, Roche’s other arm wrapped around his back, pulling him tight against Roche and Roche was suddenly rising out of the chair. Iorveth instinctively wrapped his legs around Roche’s waist, but Roche backed him up against the table and pushed him down against it, snagging the chair with a foot and sitting down again.

Iorveth blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but then Roche was ripping his hose open and spreading his legs, diving down to press his face into Iorveth’s folds. Iorveth let out a surprised exclamation and gripped Roche’s hair even tighter.

Roche moaned, the vibration rumbling right against sensitive skin and Iorveth whimpered. Roche clearly knew what he was doing, licking at him with confidence and skill, and Iorveth found himself shaking, hips jolting up against Roche’s face. Roche splayed a hand over his stomach, stroking across his skin and looking up at him past Iorveth’s own hard cock, eyes fiery and intent. 

“Touch your cock,” Roche murmured, lips moving across Iorveth’s cunt and Iorveth whined, helplessly following Roche’s instructions once more. He wrapped slim fingers around his tapered cock, twisting to drag his palm over the ridges that spiraled around it.

Iorveth’s stomach quivered under Roche’s palm and soft sounds slipped from his mouth. “Fuck, Vernon,” he whimpered, tugging Roche down by the hair and bucking his hips up at the same time.

Roche’s shoulders jerked and he moaned long and loud against Iorveth’s cunt, eyes fluttering shut. He relaxed into Iorveth’s body, shoulders slumping against Iorveth’s thighs and tongue growing sloppy.

Iorveth gasped, “did you just–?”

Roche just moaned, licking into him lazily and Iorveth’s fingers flexed around his cock, growing tight as he bucked up against Roche’s face. Roche let himself be held by his hair as he practically suffocated in Iorveth’s cunt, seemingly entirely content to be used however Iorveth wanted him.

“Fuck!” he breathed, “Vernon!”

Roche’s hand, covered in his own cum, came up to circle the base of Iorveth’s cock. His thumb slipped down to stroke over Iorveth’s clit and Iorveth jerked, his muscles twitching as he came in waves over Roche’s face and hair. Roche moaned, lapping at him eagerly. 

Iorveth squirmed, holding Roche against him even as his pleasure crested and edged into  _ too much.  _ He liked the way it was a little too much, liked the way that Roche’s eagerness had him dripping wet again. He rocked his hips against Roche’s face, and Roche’s thumb resumed exploring his clit, touch gentle.

“Vernon,” he whimpered, sliding his own messy hand under his rucked up tunic to roll across his nipples, and Roche’s hand on his stomach dragged through the trails he’d left across his torso, smearing cum across his skin. 

Roche’s tongue was thorough and agile and hot and Iorveth decided it was now his favorite feature of Roche’s. His hips bucked against Roche’s mouth and ground down against Roche’s nose and Roche seemed completely satisfied to be used like this as Iorveth chased his pleasure.

Roche’s eyes flickered open and met his, then the man spoke against his cunt, muffled and wet, “come for me, Iorveth.”

Iorveth’s eyes went wide even as his body arched in response, pleasure flooding through him like a tsunami, leaving nothing standing in its wake. He floated hazily, unaware of time or place as galaxies spiraled behind his eyelids. 

He came back to himself slowly, awareness returning in fractions. Something soft against his cheek, pleasant tingles shivering across his scalp as fingers combed through his hair, warm breath fluttering against his face, tickling across the sensitive skin around his scars. Iorveth hummed in contentment, leaning into the hand stroking through his hair.

The hand froze for a moment, then began to withdraw and Iorveth made a bereft sound. Warm laughter washed over his face and Iorveth slowly opened his eye to see what Vernon Roche looked like when his face wasn’t lined with stress. Roche had the slightest trace of a smile on his face, and his hand resumed carding through Iorveth’s hair. Iorveth watched him with a half-lidded eye, but Roche seemed content to hold an arm up and twine his fingers in Iorveth’s hair. Iorveth licked his lips, feeling like something needed to be said – but it was rather difficult to think when he was still coming down from floating high and his scalp was tingling pleasantly from Roche’s movements and he couldn’t quite put together any words.

Belatedly, he recalled something that didn’t make sense. “Y’r arm,” he muttered, eyelids heavy, “inj’r’d?”

Roche huffed a laugh. “Probably not what the doctor recommended, but absolutely worth it.”

“Mmm,” Iorveth hummed. Roche’s easy comfort with their switch from enemies to – what were they now? Lovers? Convenient warm bodies? Whatever they were, it somehow made it only right for Iorveth to roll into Roche until he could pillow his cheek on Roche’s surprisingly comfortable chest.

Roche’s breathing hitched, but his fingers continued to scratch across Iorveth’s scalp. “G’night, Iorveth,” Roche murmured, the same way he had each night they’d traveled together.

Instead of his typical reply –  _ night, dh’oine. I’ll probably kill you in the morning _ – Iorveth swallowed and said against Roche’s chest, “good night, Vernon.”

He could feel the way Roche was caught off guard by that, but when he tilted his head up, he could just barely make out the spreading smile on Roche’s face past his pointed chin. Roche’s hand continued to play with Iorveth’s hair, and before long, Iorveth drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and warm and happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.


End file.
